Some just loathe Ecstasy; like the Roman
who turned our Gorgeous Boy of Lust and Rage
into some frail sot. To fear masculine
beauty is to fear the divine. That age
that tried to switch Dion-(bow chicka bow
wow)-ysus with besotted ol’ Bacchus
ended bad. This isn’t heresy. My vow
is still to He Who Swaggers With Quenchless
Thirst. The one god not appeased by widespread
worship, sacrifice or floor pie. Altars
do not sooth him, nor prophets who soothsay.
Only madness in dance, in art, in bed.
No priests or holy laws. Only lovers;
we few who obey when we disobey.